Bonnie's Eyes
by TDWidow
Summary: One warm day in Atlanta, a little girl named Bonnie fell off of her pony and died. Now she watches over all the lost and lonely children all throughout time. This is what she sees. Spans many canons. Final Chapter: Harry Potter COMPLETE!
1. Bonnie Butler

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** Welcome to my newest story! This one is a lot like "Wedding Bells" in the each chapter is front a different canon. For instance, this (the prologue) is from Gone With the Wind and Scarlett (the sequel). The next chapter will be the story of a different child from something else. Almost all of these children belong to me. Only Bonnie and one other one in another chapter are canon characters and I'll note that at the head of the chapter.

Sorry this chapter is short, but give me a break, it's the prologue, hehe.

**DISCLAIMER** Bonnie Butler is the property of the estate of the late Margaret Mitchell. Not me.

…

**Bonnie – "Pretty girl" Celtic/Gaelic**

You can't see me. No one can. I don't exist anymore. I just watch. I take care of children, you know. I was only four when I died and now I watch over children who don't get the love they need.

When I was alive, my name was Eugenie Victoria Butler. No one called me that, though. Everyone called me Bonnie. Bonnie Butler. I think Aunt Melly named me, but I'm not sure. Aunt Melly helps me watch over the children now.

I only watch over those who have no one to love them. I feel for them. Oh, I had all the love I needed while I was alive. Daddy worshipped me. He gave me everything I ever wanted. He took me traveling with him. I miss him so much. All I remember about him was that he had dark hair and a little moustache that tickled when he gave me a kiss and kind, dark eyes. He loved Mother very much.

Mother didn't really give me things or take me places, but she still loved me. I could tell when she'd clap her hands at how well I rode my pony. And I think the last thing I heard before I died was her screaming.

I had Aunt Melly and Uncle Ashely too, except I never saw much of Uncle Ashley. Daddy didn't like him. And then there was Aunt Pittypat and Mammy and Prissy and Pork and my friend Beau too. They all loved me.

I had a big brother Wade and a big sister Ella too. They're the reason why I watch over lonely children now. Mother loved me and Aunt Melly loved Beaut, but I don't think Mother loved Wade and Ella the same. Wade was afraid of her, through he tried not to show it in front of us girls. Not much ever bothered Ella. I think that she just lived her life the way it was, not really paying attention to anything.

After I died, Mother and Daddy spent some time away from each other. Then Mother went away far across the sea. She left Wade and Ella with Auntie Suellen at Tara and never saw them again. When Aunt Melly died, Mother only saw Uncle Ashley once or twice before never seeing him again either.

Then she had another baby. She named my little sister Katie, but called her Cat. Mother loves Cat the way Daddy loved me. Maybe this should make me jealous, but it doesn't. I'm just happy that Mother finally knows how to love her children. I just wish I could be there to be Cat's big sister.

Aunt Melly says that I can still be there for her even though I died. I want to be a good big sister to Cat and a big sister to all the children who need me, all throughout time. We're pretty good at this, Aunt Melly and me. Maybe someday all the little children in the world won't need us anymore. Aunt Melly would like to see all the children happy, and so would I.


	2. Hannah Turner

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** First of all, my wonderful, patient beta Lauren pointed out that why would Elizabeth have these journals in the house where Will could find them? My answer is that she trusts Will not to pry. Unfortunately, the same isn't true for her daughter…

**DISCLAIMER** Hannah and George Turner are my characters and thus belong to me. Jack, Elizabeth, and Will don't.

…

**Hannah – "Grace of God" Hebrew**

Elizabeth Turner shielded her eyes from the bright Caribbean sun. She sighed and shook her head in amusement when she saw a nimble little figure with her skirts pulled up about her knees jumping among the rocks. A smaller, slower person toddled behind her

"Hannah Turner!" Elizabeth yelled. "Come back into the house! It's not safe for George out on those rocks!"

Elizabeth swore that she almost heard her daughter sigh. "Yes mother!"

Hannah took her little brother by the hand and led him back toward the house. George walked happily beside his big sister.

"Come on, children," Elizabeth said fondly as she held the door open. "Supper's almost on the table."

Hannah and George ran up the stairs, leaving Elizabeth alone in the foyer. She glanced at the sun before closing the door. Will would be home soon.

Upstairs, Hannah threw herself down on the bed that she and George shared. Her little brother puttered around the room, but she wasn't paying him any attention. She was thinking.

Hannah Turner had a secret. She hadn't meant to find it out, but she was nine and nine-year-olds were inquisitive.

For her birthday, her father had given her a wooden model of a boat. He said that it was called the Black Pearl and that it belonged to her parents' friend – a great pirate named Jack Sparrow. But Mother had gotten a very sad look in her eyes when Father sad that. Hannah had never seen her look so sad.

So then she did a bad thing. One day while Father was at work and Mother was out playing with George in the yard, she snuck into her parents' room and stole her mother's old journals. Then, she read them all.

Jack Sparrow didn't show up until the second book. At first it didn't sound like Mother liked him much. And there was some whole boring story about cursed pirates. But the most interesting entry was six months before she was born.

"I don't know what happened. I don't really remember everything about that night Jack and I were stuck on the island. Now I haven't seen Jack since Will and I got married and I must find some way to tell him. But Will mustn't ever find out. He has to think this baby is his."

Hannah hadn't wanted to know what that meant, but she kept reading anyway. The next entry wasn't until after she was born.

"The baby is a girl. Will is so proud of her, although he worries as he thinks she was early. We named her Hannah. I don't know how Will can look at her and not see that she is Jack's. I suppose it best if he never finds out."

Hannah had to stop reading then. She couldn't believe that her father wasn't her father at all! Her real father was a wild, dashing pirate out on the ocean somewhere. She didn't even know if he was still alive.

Since then, Hannah hadn't been at ease around her parents at all. She took to walking along the rocky beach in front of their house, searching the horizon for any ship that might be the Black Pearl. The only family member who she didn't feel separated from was George. He was her brother, no matter who her father was.

She was shaken out of her thoughts by her mother's call. "Dinner's ready, children!" George scrambled for the door. Hannah swung her feet over the side of the bed and trudged down the stairs. Dinners were especially painful. She felt uncomfortable around her father now. She felt guilty, even though it was her mother's secret.

Her mother was busy getting George washed up for dinner when Will got home. He sat down across from Hannah at the table.

"Good evening, Father," she said, trying her hardest to sound normal.

Apparently, she wasn't successful. He looked at her strangely, but just replied, "Hello Hannah. How was your day?"

"Fine."

Will soon realized that he was getting nothing further out of his daughter and stopped trying. They were quiet throughout dinner. As Will got up to help Elizabeth clear the table, a low knock came at the back door.

George ran to answer it. He loved visitors. But when he saw the fearsome figure with beaded dreadlocks and kohl-rimmed eyes standing in the doorway, he began crying loudly. Elizabeth ran to comfort him. "Jack!" she said, surprised.

Will was right behind her. "Jack! What are you doing here?"

Jack came into the kitchen, swept off his hat, and grinned. "'Ello there William." He turned to Elizabeth. "And Mrs. William."

Hannah sat alone in the dining room. She knew. Her real father was standing in her kitchen. She didn't even realize that she was standing up and walking toward his voice.

Jack stopped what he was saying when he saw the girl appear in the doorway. For a moment, they stared at each other. Elizabeth's face paled.

Everyone was silent for a moment. Then suddenly Jack turned for the door without a word. Elizabeth chased him across the yard. "Jack, wait!"

He turned. She had never seen such anger in his eyes. "Why didn't ye tell me?"

"How could I? This is the first time you've been back in nine years!"

Jack sighed. He turned his back on her and Elizabeth could just barely see his face. "What's 'er name?" he asked.

"Hannah." Elizabeth wasn't sure what else to say. "Will doesn't know," she added quietly.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yes 'e does. Ye didn't think ye could really 'ide it, did ye?" He turned around. "Will knows."

Elizabeth hung her head. "I'm sorry."

Shrugged, Jack took another step away from the house. "I suppose I'll be stopping by more often, aye?" Then he was gone.

Will said nothing but, "Hannah is in her room," when Elizabeth returned. She looked at him through unshed tears and was relieved to see that he was neither crying nor in a murderous rage. He almost looked relieved, as if a long-standing question had finally been answered.

Climbing the stairs, Will knocked on the children's bedroom door. A soft voice replied, "Come in." Will pushed open the door to see Hannah on her bed, holding her model of the Black Pearl.

"It took me three months to make that," he said as he sat on the end of the bed. "I wanted to make sure all the details were right."

Hannah didn't say anything. She just ran her fingers over the carved wooden hull.

"You're still my daughter, Hannah. I still love you." At this, Hannah finally looked up. Will added, "And Jack has promised to come back more often."

Hannah suddenly crawled over and gave Will a hug. "I'm sorry," she cried into his shoulder. Will said nothing, just held her as she cried.


	3. Manendil

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** This chapter includes **slash** and **mpreg**. If you don't like reading this kind of material, please stop right here. The other chapters won't include this, but this one is. Deal. (smiles sweetly) Now on to the story. Also, "Manendil" really does mean "good friends" in Quenya.

**DISCLAIMER** I don't own Legolas or Aragorn or Ithilien. Manendil, however, is my own creation.

…

**Manendil – "Good Friends" Quenya**

The King's escort rode quietly through the green forests of Ithilien. Aragorn Elessar, King of the Reunited Kingdom, had never been comfortable riding with so many others. His people in the North, known to the rest of Middle Earth as Rangers, had always found it curious that he chose to ride alone. The nine of the Fellowship were the most that he had traveled with up to that point.

But now, as the beloved monarch of Gondor, Aragorn found that he was hardly alone when he traveled. He understood the concern that his subjects felt for him and found it rather touching actually, but there were times that he longed for the old days.

Especially for journeys such as this one. Every year on the tenth of August, Aragorn journeyed to the small Elvish colony in southern Ithilien. Legolas Thranduilion, once Crown Prince of the faded colony of Mirkwood and Aragorn's friend since before the days of the Fellowship, was ruler of the colony.

Aragorn was welcomed warmly into the colony, as he always was. Many of the Elves now living under Legolas's rule had watched Aragorn grow up in Rivendell and had resisted the call of the Sea when Lord Elrond had departed. The Royal Escort was left behind and Aragorn was led to Legolas's private chambers.

The Elf gave him a warm hug of welcome. "Mae govannen, my friend!" Legolas said happily. The two sat down in the sitting room. "How was your journey?"

Aragorn shrugged. "The same as usual. You know how I feel about being escorted everywhere and led around by the hand."

Legolas laughed, his elven voice sounding like silver bells. Then, looking Aragorn in the eye, he said, "Shall I call him?" Smiling, Aragorn nodded. Legolas rose from his chair and went to a side door. "Manendil!" he called softly.

A small voice replied, "Yes Ada?"

"Will you come here please? We have a visitor."

Aragorn heard a squeal of delight, followed by "Estel!"

A young boy of about eight years old came flying out of the bedroom and ran to Aragorn's side. His dark, curly hair just barely hid the delicate points of his ears. Aragorn dropped down to hug him. The boy held onto him gleefully. "Has it been a whole year already?"

Over Manendil's shoulder, Aragorn met Legolas's gaze. "Yes, Manendil. And you've gotten so big! How old are you now?"

The Elfling pulled away. Proudly, he said, "I'm 40!"

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "Why, you're almost grown up now!"

Manendil laughed. "Not yet Estel!"

Legolas put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Manendil, go outside and play. I have to talk to Estel for a minute and then we'll come out and join you."

The Elfling ran out of the room and the man and Elf sat in silence. "He's aging as an Elf does," Aragorn said finally.

"He is my son," Legolas said calmly. Aragorn sat uncomfortably. Legolas continued softly, "He is your son, too, Aragorn."

The King dropped his head into his hands. His elven friend watched him. "What would you have me do? I am the King of the Reunited Kingdom, Legolas!"

Legolas leapt swiftly to his feet, anger flashing in his eyes. "You are also Manendil's father!" His voice was raised in a rare exhibition of fury. "He was your first child! He was born long before Eldarion or any of your daughters! If only you would see him more than once a year!" The usually composed Elf was seething as he paced around the room. "Aragorn, why must you hide him?"

Aragorn waited until Legolas had finished his tirade. "We've talked about this before. Arwen, as my queen, has given me an heir for my throne. Can you imagine the reaction if the peoples of Middle Earth found out that I had an illegitimate child by the Lord of Southern Ithilien? I have to think of more than just you, me, and Manendil. I have to think of my kingdom."

Legolas said nothing, only walked to the window to watch his son outside. "Manendil is the last heir of the last true Royal Elven House in Middle Earth, as well as the true heir to your throne. We are denying him all of that."

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and turned to meet Aragorn's deep brown eyes. "We have this argument every year, mellon nîn. Manendil is happy growing up with you in Ithilien."

"He loves you, Estel. He misses you." Legolas's voice dropped. "I miss you."

"Oh Legolas." Aragorn wrapped the slender Elf in his arms. They held each other like that until a small voice broke into the room.

"Ada! Estel! How long do you have to talk?"

Aragorn laughed. "Come Legolas. Our son calls us." Together they left the chambers.

"About time!" the Elfling said. "I didn't think you were ever coming out!"

Aragorn picked the child up. "Well we're here now." He Legolas's eyes over Manendil's shoulder and this time, the Elf smiled.


	4. Paloma LopezFitzgerald

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** This is the only canon character whose story I'm telling. As all faithful _Passions_ viewers know, Paloma is the youngest Lopez-Fitzgerald child. When Martin Fitzgerald disappeared, his wife Pilar could not take care of all five children by herself. Paloma was only a baby and Pilar sent her away to hopefully give her a better life. And, well, you know what happened after that.

**DISCLAIMER** Don't own anyone here.

…

**Paloma – "A Dove" Spanish**

Pilar Lopez-Fitzgerald paced around the tiny kitchen in her dingy apartment. As she wrung her hands, she cast nervous glances at the back door. Finally, she seemed to give up and walked into the only other room she owned.

A dark bathroom was off the left of the bedroom. Her three boys – 10-year-old Antonio, 6-year-old Luis, and 2-year-old Miguel – slept soundly in a twin-sized bed. 3-year-old Theresa slept alone in another twin next to a small wooden cradle.

Pilar knelt next to the cradle and rocked it slowly. "My little Paloma," she said sadly. "Mi amada niña."

Sighing, she stood up and let the baby sleep. "Where is she?" she muttered once she'd reached the kitchen again.

A small noise caught her attention and she turned her head just in time to see a mouse disappear under the refrigerator. Pilar cringed. Her mind wandered back to the small but clean and cozy house that she had lived in not so long ago.

They had been better times. She had been deeply, blissfully in love. Her husband worked for Crane Industries – the largest company in Harmony. Pilar loved Harmony. She felt it the perfect place to raise their children.

Antonio was their oldest. He was ten now and he adored his father. There were times when it seemed he hardly remembered that he had a mother, brothers, or sisters.

It was just Antonio for a long time. Pilar and her husband wanted to be sure that everything was settled before they had more children.

After four years of just the three of them, Luis was born. He was protective of Pilar from the very beginning. When the younger children were born, Luis made it his job to protect them as well. Theresa followed him everywhere as soon as she learned to walk. She was doted on by her older brother, as she was the only girl and Luis's little princess.

The little ones – Miguel and Paloma – were two years apart. Miguel, who had greatly enjoyed the position of baby of the family, was jealous of the new baby girl at first. Theresa was a little jealous as well, as Luis loved the new baby and started spending more time helping Pilar with her. In consequence, Theresa and Miguel became fast friends.

Then one night when Paloma was only a month old, Pilar's whole world fell apart. Her husband failed to come home that evening. She waited up for him the whole night. When he was not home by morning, she began to worry. The following week was a nightmare. No one knew anything of her husband. Crane Industries had been thrown into chaos by the death of Alistair Crane's wife Katherine.

A month passed. It became clear that her husband wasn't coming back. The money that she had long counted on stopped coming in. Pilar was forced to move into the tiny creature-infested apartment that she now lived in. She became a maid in the Crane mansion just to make ends meet.

Tears gathered in Pilar's eyes. "Oh Martin!" she cried softly. "Where are you? Why did you leave us?"

She jumped when she heard a soft knock at the door. Drying her eyes, she opened the door. "Maria!"

"Pilar." Maria came into the small kitchen and hugged her sister.

Pilar wiped away a tear. "Thank you so much for doing this, Maria. I wish things were different but…"

Maria smiled sadly. "I know, Pilar. I know." Squaring her shoulders, she said, "Where is she?"

"Stay here," Pilar said softly.

Little Miguel was talking in his sleep when Pilar reentered the bedroom. Antonio sleepily opened his eyes, reached over the sleeping Luis, and swatted Miguel. The toddler quieted down.

"Antonio!" Pilar admonished her son sharply. Then, more gently, she added, "Go back to sleep."

The boy rolled over and went back to sleep. Pilar waited until his breath became deep and even before she knelt next to Paloma's cradle. While she could not stop herself from crying, she was able to keep her grief quiet enough not to wake the other children.

"My baby Paloma," she whispered to the girl. "Please forgive me for this. I love you so much. One day, when times are better, I'll bring you home."

Gently, she lifted the baby out of the cradle. She picked up an old knitted blanket and wrapped it around her daughter. Pilar stood for just a moment, holding her youngest child close.

Maria was waiting for her in the kitchen. She took Paloma from Pilar and rocked her softly. "She's beautiful, mi hermana."

Pilar choked back a sob. "Thank you. I – " She paused. "As soon as things are better – I mean, when my Martin comes back, I'll send for her."

Maria nodded. "I understand. I'll care for her as my own."

"Gracias, Maria."

Maria kissed Pilar's cheek and soon she and Paloma were gone. Pilar gave into her grief and sank down at the kitchen table. After she'd cried as much as she felt she could, she trudged back to the bedroom. She changed into her nightgown and gently pulled the blankets back on the bed that held little Theresa.

The three-year-old awoke when Pilar put her arm around her – her only remaining daughter. "Mama?" the child asked.

"Yes Theresa, it's me."

Theresa blinked sleepily. "What's wrong, Mama?"

Pilar just brushed her daughter's hair from her forehead. "Nothing, mija. Go back to sleep."


	5. Baby Boy Dawson

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** I made up all the hospital procedure about what happens if a baby's born alive and doesn't live for 24 hours, just so you know. Hope you enjoy this (somewhat sad) chapter!

**DISCLAIMER** I don't own the main character. The doctor, nurse, and baby are all my creations.

…

Rubber-soled shoes echoed in the empty hallway. The night nurse stopped at one of the large hospital windows and watched the sun break the horizon over the skyline of Manhattan. She heard footsteps behind her.

"Oh," she said, turning around. "Good morning, Doctor."

"Good morning, Charlotte." They walked together. "Was there any trouble during the night?"

Charlotte stopped and nodded sadly. "In the nursery, Doctor."

"Was it…?"

"Yes, Doctor. Early this morning."

The doctor sighed and rubbed his temples. "I believe that it was to be expected. Being born at only seven months, the poor boy had no chance. And what with the condition of the mother…"

They began walking again. The nurse said softly, "You know she was – "

"Yes," he cut her off. "I know."

They were silent until they reached the door to the maternity ward. Charlotte handed the doctor a file. "Miss Dawson's chart."

"Thank you, Charlotte. I believe the morning nurse has arrived. You're free to leave for the day."

Charlotte nodded her head. "Thank you. Good day, Doctor."

"Good day."

His patient was the first on the left. She was awake. Her dark red, curly hair lay limp on the pillow around her. She watched the doctor with sunken eyes. "Good morning, Rose," he said.

"Good morning," was the listless reply.

The doctor pulled a chair up beside the bed. "There's something I need to talk to you about," he said, seriousness clouding his eyes.

A stray tear leaked out of Rose's eye and slipped down to the pillow. "Where is my son?"

"Rose, you have to understand – "

She didn't react as he had expected. A sad little sigh escaped her lips before she muttered, "My baby is dead."

"I'm sorry, my dear." The doctor put a hand on hers. "The birth was too early. He couldn't have survived."

She struggled to sit up. "Is there anything that could have been done?"

He shook his head. "No. There was too much trauma to the fetus during the first trimester." The doctor paused when he saw the look of pain cross the young woman's face. "I apologize, I shouldn't have brought that up."

Images and memories flashed unchecked through Rose's head. She felt the icy water swallow her entire body, freezing her deeper than her bones. She watched over and over again as passengers' hands slipped from the rails and fell down to the ever-rising waterline. Cries for help and the sound of a whistle pierced the air. She couldn't shake the memory of lying alone, floating on the board in the Atlantic with Jack's frozen hand clasped in hers. She couldn't forget Jack's blue face sinking slowly down after the ship.

"The water," she finally said. "The water was what did it."

"I'm afraid so. You were near death when you were brought aboard the Carpathia. How many hours were you in the water?"

It had felt like forever. "I don't know."

"The shock of the North Atlantic in April nearly destroyed your system. It is a miracle that your son was born at all."

Rose let herself fall back onto the pillow. "I'm sorry, Jack," she whispered.

"What was that, my dear?"

"Nothing."

The doctor opened her file and scanned its contents quickly. "Rose, you have no next of kin listed here. Is there anyone you would like us to contact?"

More faces. Her mother's look when Rose had refused to follow her into a boat. Mr. Andrews's parting glance and gift of a lifejacket. Cal searching for her on the Carpathia. Jack floating down into the sea. "There's no one. They were all lost with the ship."

He nodded sadly. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "What happens now?"

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. "I had hoped to allow you some time to grieve before bringing this up."

Shaking her head, Rose leveled her gaze on the doctor. "What is to be done?"

"I'm afraid that you have a decision to make."

"About what?"

"Rose, your son was born alive. However, he did not survive for more than 24 hours. We can record it as a stillbirth and bury him as such or you can name him and bury him by the laws of the Church. It's up to you."

She said nothing for a long time. The doctor watched her closely, waiting patiently. Finally, she shook her head. "Just bury him. It would be easier to pretend that he had never survived."

Sadly, the doctor nodded. "I understand." He stood up. "I'll make the necessary arrangements."

"Thank you." Rose watched him leave before closing her eyes again. Sleeping kept the painful memories away.

Later that day, baby boy Dawson was buried in the small hospital cemetery.


	6. Jessica Houlihan

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** Only thing here…"Hank" is the name that Margaret made up when sending the fake letter to her husband in "Comrades in Arms Part Two." While it isn't Hawkeye specifically, it's very obvious that it's meant to reflect him.

**DISCLAIMER** Don't own 'em. I don't know who does, but it isn't me. Except for Jessica.

…

**Jessica – "Wealthy" Hebrew**

Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce was nervous. He wasn't usually – it took a lot to fluster him. But this made him nervous. He paused in front of a large set of double doors and took a deep breath before pushing them open.

Hawkeye was met with a large banner that said, "WELCOME MASH 4077 – BEST CARE ANYWHERE!" As he scanned the room, he had to smile. He hadn't seen any of these familiar faces in five years. Just as he headed into the room, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hello sir!"

"Radar!" Hawkeye gave the young man a hug. "You've gotten taller!"

Walter "Radar" O'Reilly laughed good-naturedly. "Very funny, sir." He led Hawkeye into the room. "You're the last to arrive, Hawkeye. Some people were starting to think that you weren't coming."

"Oh really?" Hawkeye asked, smirking. He had a pretty good idea of who "some people" were.

"Yes sir. We put you at the Swamp table right over here."

"Splendid, Radar."

He hesitated before sitting down. Charles was there, a woman at his side. BJ and Peg were also at the table, as well as Colonel and Mrs. Potter. "I thought this table was for the Swamp only," he remarked teasingly as he came up behind the Colonel.

"Well hello to you too, Hawkeye!" Potter replied. "It seems you fellas have adopted me for the evening."

BJ stood up to give his old friend a hug. "I'm glad you could make it, Hawk!"

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss this!" Hawkeye took a seat between BJ and the Colonel. Across BJ, he shook hands with his wife. "You must be Peg," he said.

She nodded, curly hair framing her face. "And you must be Hawkeye. I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh really?" Hawkeye asked, glancing at BJ. "Good things, I hope?"

Peg shrugged, smirking. "Most of it."

BJ smiled innocently. Hawkeye turned his attention across the table. "Charles!" he drawled in a bad Boston accent. "How ever have you been?"

Charles chuckled. "You haven't changed much, have you, Pierce?"

Hawkeye shrugged. "Where's Erin?"

"Oh, she's over there." BJ pointed off to the side of the ballroom. And 8-year-old played happily with a smaller child of no more than six.

"Who's the other girl?"

"Uh…" BJ looked uneasily at Peg.

"Oh," Colonel Potter jumped in. "That's, uh…that's…"

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't a hard question."

"What wasn't a hard question?"

Hawkeye looked up to see another old friend. "Margaret!" He stood up and kissed her cheek. "How have you been?"

She smiled. "Hello Hawkeye." Neither saw the look that passed between BJ and the Colonel. Margaret asked, "So what wasn't a hard question?"

"Oh," Hawkeye answered. "I was just wondering who the little girl playing with Erin Hunnicut is."

An undistinguishable look passed briefly over Margaret's face before she replied, "That's my daughter Jessica."

"Your daughter!" Hawkeye cried. "Congratulations!"

Margaret smiled half-heartedly. "Thank you." She hesitated before asking, "Would you like to meet her?"

"Sure!" Hawkeye allowed Margaret to lead him over to where the children played.

"Mommy!" Jessica cried when Margaret reached her.

"Hello sweetheart." Margaret picked the child up. "There's someone I want you to meet. This is Mommy's friend Hawkeye."

Jessica smiled shyly. "Hi," she said.

"Hello there!" Hawkeye grinned. "How old are you, Jessica?"

"Five and a half!" she said proudly.

"Five and a half?" Hawkeye repeated. He looked at Margaret. "But then…?" Margaret nodded slowly. "Wow. How did that go with Donald?"

"Donald isn't her father," Margaret admitted softly.

"My daddy's name is Hank!" Jessica announced.

Hawkeye's blood ran cold. He felt like his heart stopped beating as shockwaves ran through his body. "Hank?" he whispered.

Jessica nodded. Margaret set her down. "Go and play with Erin, honey. I have to talk to Hawkeye for a minute."

"Okay!" The girl ran off to find her older playmate.

Margaret and Hawkeye stood in silence for an awkward moment. "I, uh, I didn't know how to tell you," Margaret finally said.

"Hank," Hawkeye repeated again. After a moment, he asked, "how did you hide it?"

"Colonel Potter helped me," Margaret said. "I told him everything that happened and he helped me get around the automatic discharge." She dropped her head. "I didn't want you to know."

Hurt washed over Hawkeye. "Why not? Didn't I deserve to?"

"You told me that what happened between us would never work out!" Margaret pointed out. "Those were your words, Hawkeye, not mine."

Hawkeye fumbled for words. "Yeah, but I – "

"And you never had a lack of nurses by your side. I never wanted Jessica to be a burden to you." Margaret's voice was bitter. "I figured it would be better for her to not have a father rather than one who resented her."

When she finally looked back at Hawkeye, she was surprised by how stricken he looked. "I would never ever resent my child," he said. "How could you even think that?"

Tears gathered in Margaret's eyes. "I was so scared, Hawkeye!" Hawkeye said nothing else, just hugged Margaret and let her cry.

Across the room, Jessica and Erin returned to the Swamp table. Jessica climbed into BJ's lap. "Uncle BJ?" she asked. "Why is Mommy upset?"

BJ just smiled at the little girl. "She's not upset. She's just happy to see her old friends." Over her head, he and Colonel Potter shared a smile. Things would be all right.


	7. Keiran Summers

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** Usually I don't like the whole idea of Buffy getting pregnant during "I Will Remember You," but for story it seemed to work. Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER** Don't own the BtVS or Angel characters…lovely Joss does. I did however make up the character of Keiran.

…

**Keiran – "Little and Dark" Celtic/Gaelic**

The sun sank below the horizon. Twilight faded into night and the Souther California shadows lengthened. A silent figure slunk through the darkness. He saw his target – a bright gleaming palace of windows. There was an entrance deserted and he slipped in undetected.

Had he breathed, he would have heaved a sigh of relief to have made it into the hospital so easily. As it was, he sought out the first nurse he found. "Excuse me, miss," he said politely.

"Sir, I don't think you're supposed to be in here. This part of the hospital is for authorized personnel only!"

He smiled in embarrassment. "Please forgive me, I think I'm lost. Can you tell me where I should go?"

She shifted under his intense gaze. "Well what unit were you looking for?"

Again, an appropriate place for a sigh but none came. "Maternity."

She gave him directions – a left, then a right, straight to the elevator and up three floors – and he was on his way. He waited in the elevator with a mother and her young daughter and an old woman bearing flowers. He looked at the bouquet and felt ashamed. He should have brought flowers.

The chart on the wall said he was headed to room 413. He headed down the hall, but paused when he heard voices coming from the room.

"Buffy, are you sure? I mean, what other explanation is there?"

Angel heard a sigh. "I've already explained this. He wasn't late and he wasn't early. I only slept with Parker once and it wasn't too long ago. And…" Her voice trailed off.

Another voice – a guy. Xander. "And Riley?"

"Riley was much later. It's the end of August. The doctors say it…well it happened near the end of November."

Angel leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He was right. It was his baby. He had to talk to the Oracles. They were the ones who swallowed the day that he had been human. Apparently, they'd missed something.

But first he had to see Buffy and the baby. "Where is Riley?" Xander was asking.

"He, uh, he's in Washington," Buffy said softly. "Post-Initiative stuff. He doesn't know."

It was as good a time as any. Angel softly knocked on the doorframe. "Hi Buffy."

Buffy was in the hospital bed, rocking a tiny baby to sleep. Her mother and Giles flanked either side of the bed. Willow and Xander were both perched on the foot of the bed. Any and Willow's girlfriend Tara both stood against the wall. The gang was all there. "Angel!" Buffy said, surprised. Her faced deepened to bright red. "What are you doing here?"

The normally composed vampire shuffled nervously. "I, uh, I got a call – Willow called me and told me, uh, what was going on."

Buffy shot a glare at Willow. The redheaded witch hid her face. Tara spoke up. "W-willow t-thought he s-should know." The stutter made it obvious how nervous everyone must have been.

"It's okay," Buffy finally said. She smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Angel."

Angel didn't smile back. "Buffy, I need to talk to you. Alone."

Giles started to protest, but Buffy cut him off. "Can you guys leave us alone for a few minutes?"

Reluctantly, everyone filed out of the hospital room. Buffy looked up at Angel. "Would you like to hold him?"

He walked to her bedside. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She handed Angel her newborn son. "His name is Keiran."

"Keiran?" Angel repeated. "But, that's an Irish name." Buffy nodded. "Why…"

Buffy patted the bed next to her. "Sit down." Angel did so, cradling his son carefully. Buffy looked his square in the eye. "Angel, as soon as I found out that I was pregnant, I could tell that something wasn't natural about it."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "I'm the Slayer. It's a kind of sixth sense I guess. So I told Giles about it and how…" Buffy suddenly blushed. "And how it couldn't be Parker or Riley. He sent me to LA, to this place called the Gateway for Lost Souls. He said they'd have answers for me there."

Angel suddenly saw where this was going. Buffy knew the truth. "You saw the Oracles."

She nodded. "They told me about the Mohra Demon. They told me about the day they swallowed."

Angel gazed down at Keiran. "I don't understand. That whole day was supposed to never have happened."

"I know." Buffy looked down at her son with nothing but love. "They weren't sure what happened either. Actually, they sounded rather upset. Started talking about how that wasn't prophesized and about the son that would find life from both in death."

"Huh?"

This elicited a laugh from Buffy and she shrugged. "I don't know either. They didn't make much sense."

"They never do." Angel and Buffy were quiet for a minute. "Do the others know?" Angel finally asked. "Giles, Xander and everyone?"

"No." Buffy looked slightly ashamed. "I don't know how they'd take it."

Angel wasn't sure either. Xander had never liked him. Willow he'd tried to kill and Giles he'd horrifically tortured for days. Those three people cared about Buffy more than anything. They would die to protect her.

Somehow, Angel felt that his having gotten Buffy pregnant without her knowing it wouldn't sit well with them.

Buffy sighed. "I suppose we ought to tell them together, huh?"

Had Angel had moving blood, it would have drained from his face. But he looked down at his son in his arms and nodded. He gently handed Keiran back to Buffy. "I'll go get them."

Eight months later, as Angel returned triumphantly from Pylea to find a somber Willow in his lobby, Keiran had not only a father who was dead, but a mother who was as well. He came under the protection of his new Aunt Dawn until his mother could be returned to him.


	8. Holly Berrisford

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** Okay, so here's my time breakdown. Rachel fell into a coma after her car exploded from the bomb that Alec set, as shown through flashbacks in "The Berrisford Agenda." I'm setting this up so that she was pregnant and delivered while in a coma. I don't know if that's possible, but suspend your disbelief. Rachel then dies during the events of "The Berrisford Agenda." It's been nine years or so since then, so roughly 2030.

**DISCLAIMER** Don't own them. I did make up Holly.

…

**Holly – "Plant with Red Berries" English**

Logan pulled his SUV to a stop in front of the cemetery. He glanced at the eyes faintly bright in the backseat. Alec stared intently out the window. Logan turned his worried gaze to Max beside him, but the beautiful X5 just shrugged.

"Alec, are you sure you're ready for this?" she asked.

He locked his catlike eyes with hers. "I'm always sure."

He didn't crack his trademark smile, though. Max knew how much he must be hurting. It had been been six months since they heard the news of the death of Robert Berrisford and nine years since he and Alec had had their last confrontation in this very cemetery. Finally, Alec sighed and threw open the car door.

Max and Logan remained in the car as Alec slowly made his way through the gravestones. He trudged down the path, his heart growing heavier with each step. He had been told in no uncertain terms never to return to the graveyard.

But the man who commanded that now lay in the ground as Alec walked on. He paused in front of the stone marked "Robert Berrisford."

"Hello."

Alec jumped at the small voice beside him. He cursed himself for not seeing her through his grief. "Who are you?" he asked softly.

"My name is Holly," she said matter-of-factly. "Who are you?"

"Alec," Alec replied. Holly smiled at him with clear blue eyes. "Where are your parents, Holly?" he asked.

The little girl blinked solemnly. "I lived with my granddad. He's dead now."

Alec was surprised by her calm nature. "I'm sorry to hear that. What about your mom and dad? Where are they?"

"My mom died when I was a baby," Holly answered. "My granddad never talked about my real dad."

"Why not?"

Holly shrugged. "I asked about him once, but Granddad told me to forget about him. He never told me why."

Alec reached down to put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Holly."

The child looked up and locked eyes with the X5. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'm visiting a friend," Alec said, keeping his voice steady. "She died many years ago."

Holly patted his hand that rested on her shoulder. "So did my mom."

Chills crept down Alec's spine as he gazed into Holly's bright blue eyes. "Holly, how old are you?"

"I'm ten."

More chills, followed by an impossible idea. "Do you know how your mother died?"

"No." Holly shook her head. "I just know that she was sick and died. I overheard Granddad talking about her once. It sounded like he thought my dad was responsible for her death."

Alec swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He forced himself to speak. "Do you have a last name?"

Holly nodded, but instead of answering, she took his hand and pulled him to the next grave. Alec's heart skipped a beat when she finally said, "Holly Berrisford."

Against his will, Alec's eyes filled with tears. "Rachel," he whispered.

Holly's eyes lit up. "You knew my mother! Is she the friend you came to visit?" Alec slowly nodded, trying to process the fact that Holly was Rachel's daughter. The girl was excited. "Will you tell me about my mother?"

Alec finally found his voice. "Yeah, sure. But not now."

Holly's face fell. "Why not?"

"Because you and I need to have a little talk first." Alec led Holly to a bench where the two of them sat down.

"Am I in trouble?" Holly asked.

"No, no. Don't worry." Alec took a deep breath. He leaned his head back. "Where to start?" he muttered. "Okay. Holly, this won't be easy for you to hear. I, uh, I knew your mother very well." He stopped. How did he tell a ten-year-old girl that he was her father?

Holly patted Alec's hand. "It's okay, Alec. I miss her, too."

Alec half-laughed. She was pretty observant. "I didn't know about you," he finally said. "Robert never told me."

"Granddad kept secrets from everyone," Holly assured him. "I don't even know if my dad knew about me. He never came to visit, but I don't want to believe that he was a bad person."

"Oh no!" Alec cried. "No Holly, I'm not."

Holly cocked her head, as Alec stared at her. He hadn't meant to admit it like that, but it was done. She didn't seem fazed. "Did you love my mother?"

Alec's voice broke. "Very much."

His daughter nodded her small head. "Then my Granddad lied to me. I don't think you meant to hurt my mother."

"I didn't. Never in a million years."

Holly surprised him by standing up and asking, "Can I live with you? I don't my governess to teach me anymore."

Alec took her hand. "Sure."

Max and Logan were confused, to say the least, to see Alec return with a young girl at his side. Their shock only grew when she introduced herself, saying, "I'm Holly Berrisford. He's my dad."

"Nice to meet you, Holly," Logan replied. "My name's Logan."

Holly smiled at him, then turned her attention to Max. "What's your name?"

"Max," she replied, dazed.

"Are you my aunt and uncle?" Holly asked.

"Uh," Max said. "We can be if you want us to be."

"Good." Holly snuggled next to Alec in the backseat. "I'd like to have a family."

Max caught Alec's eye in her mirror. He looked down at his daughter in wonder before looking back to Max. He kissed the top of Holly's head as Logan pulled away from the cemetery.


	9. Atticus Buchanen

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** This takes place in Daisy and Tom's new house that they begin building at the end of the film/book. And I don't think it's mentioned in the movie, but Jay Gatsby's real name is James Gatz.

**DISCLAIMER** Atticus is all my creation. Everyone else is of the estate of F. Scott Fitzgerald. Great American writer.

…

**Atticus – "Father-like" English**

The Buchanan mansion on Cape Cod was even grander than the one at East Egg had been. The walls were whiter, the stables more vast, and the dock wider. Nick Carraway was impressed.

It was summer again – the Fourth of July. Two years had passed since that summer he'd spent as Jay Gatsby's neighbor. The memories of his late friend still pained him and there were times when he didn't know why he was dredging them up again by visiting his cousin.

Nevertheless, he stood on the marble steps of Daisy's house and handed their butler his coat. "Thank you."

He bowed his head slightly. "You're most welcome, sir. I regret to inform you that Mr. Buchanan is out. Shall I ring for the lady of the house?"

"Yes, thank you." Nick was let alone in the magnificent foyer for a moment before Daisy appeared in a billowing white gown. She ran to him.

"Nick! My darling, I was so afraid that you wouldn't come!"

Nick reluctantly returned her welcome kiss. "You know that I couldn't refuse," he said, his voice a mix of softness and bitterness.

Daisy, feeling the harsh edge of his tone, glanced down at the floor ashamed. "Shall we sit down?" she asked when she looked back up.

"Sure."

Daisy led Nick into the bright morning room. The ocean lapped quietly at the beach outside the window. Sunlight illuminated a few, almost non-existent dust motes that floated lazily through the air. Nick sat stiffly on a lavender sofa. "Your new house is lovely."

"Thank you." Daisy smiled. "You must come with me one of these days to Boston. It's just as much fun as New York!"

Nick nodded his head. "Perhaps I will."

Daisy dropped her eyes and began fiddling with the fringe on a throw pillow. "Nick, I, I want to say I'm sorry. I know that what I did was awful and it kills me every night."

"You're alive, Daisy," Nick pointed out coldly. "Gatsby's not."

Tears glittered in Daisy's eyes. "I know."

She was interrupted by a governess carrying a toddler, followed by Pam Buchanan, Daisy's young daughter. The child was fussing and struggling to get away from the servant. "I'm sorry, ma'am. He won't stop crying!"

Daisy stood up and held out her arms. "Give him to me, Kathy." Kathy handed her the boy, curtseyed, and left with Pam. Daisy brought the boy over to the couch and rocked him. He quickly calmed down.

Nick watched in awe. "Daisy, can it be that you've actually become a mother?"

Daisy blushed. "This is my son, Atticus."

"He's beautiful, Daisy!"

"Thank you." Atticus giggled as Daisy tickled him. Some of the sadness left her eyes as she played with her son. She looked back up to Nick. "Would you like to hold him?"

Taken aback, Nick said, "Sure."

Gently, Daisy handed Atticus to Nick. The child looked up into Nick's eyes silently. "Hi," Nick said softly.

"He likes you," Daisy said with a smile.

"You think so?" Daisy nodded. Nick looked back down at Atticus. "I imagine that Tom's pleased to have as fine a son as this!"

The smile vanished from Daisy's face. Nick was confused to hear misery in her voice when she answered, "Yes, he is."

With an outburst of emotion, Daisy jumped up and paced around the room tearfully. "I can't do this anymore! I'm so afraid everyday that Tom will look at him and realize – " Her hand flew to her mouth and she sunk back down to the couch. She closed her eyes and cried. "Oh God, I can't believe this is happening!"

Nick watched her carefully, then looked back at the boy playing with his watch chain. "Oh God," he said. "Daisy, it can't be true!"

"It is." Daisy's crying had stopped and her voice was eerily calm. "I don't know what to do. What if Tom finds out?"

He sighed. "It's not like Gatsby can ever come back to tell him."

At Nick's words, Daisy's composure dissolved. He awkwardly stood up and carried Atticus over to join Daisy on the couch. "Look at your son, Daisy," he told her. "You love him. I can tell."

She took Atticus onto her lap. "I love him so much. He's all I have left of him." She looked up at Nick, tears glittering in her eyes. "I really loved him, Nick. I really, really did. I just couldn't show it after he died or Tom would have gone crazy! And when I realized that I was pregnant while we were in Europe, it was like I lost him all over again!"

Nick smoothed her hair. "I know. He loved you, too, more than anything else in the world."

Daisy smiled sadly and looked at her son again. "I named him Atticus James," she said proudly. "I don't think Tom even realized. Jay only told me his real name right before…"

"Atticus James Buchanan," Nick said fondly.

"Atticus James Gatsby," Daisy whispered, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "But that's our little secret, isn't it sweetheart?" she murmured in the boy's ear. He smiled up at his mother.

Nick put his hand on her arm. "Our little secret," he repeated with a smile. Looking at Atticus, he added, "Your little Gatsby."


	10. BintAnath

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** The beginning of this is taken from Evy's visions in _The Mummy Returns_. Those couple lines are not mine, but whoever wrote them.

**DISCLAIMER** Don't own them. Too bad. But I did make up this Bint-Anath.

…

**Bint-Anath – Name of an ancient Egyptian princess, daughter of Ramesses II who became his consort after her mother died**

What she was seeing couldn't possibly be real. She'd always known that Anck-su-namun was evil and that the high priest Imhotep was manipulative at least, but Princess Nefertiri never dreamed that the two were lovers. She couldn't believe her eyes as she watched from her balcony.

Imhotep ran his hands down Anck-su-namun's shoulders, smearing her gold and black body paint. Nefertiri felt slightly vindicated. They couldn't hide from her father now.

Her heart soared when Seti burst into the chambers. When he caught his mistress with Imhotep, the wedding would be called off. Nothing would make Nefertiri happier.

But then she saw Imhotep poised to strike. Fear flooded over her. "Medjai!" she called desperately to her father's bodyguards. "Quick! My father needs you!"

Imhotep pulled his dagger. 'Amun, please let the Medjai reach him in time!' she prayed. Tears gathered in her eyes when she saw the traitorous priest raise his dagger.

"No!" she cried when Imhotep struck the first blow. In her grief and desperation, she pitched herself over the stone railing and fell many feet to the ground.

In the ensuing pandemonium caused by the death of Pharaoh and his mistress and sudden disappearance of the high priest, no one noticed the broken body of the Princess Nefertiri lying under her own balcony.

So she lay there, not dead as she had expected, crying over the loss of her beloved father. Finally she crawled painfully to the nearest temple, horrified to find it dedicated to the goddess Nephthys – the evil twin of the benevolent Isis. She slumped dejectedly in the doorway, too weak and broken to go any further.

A cry echoed through the stone temple. Listlessly, Nefertiri lifted her head again and peered into the darkness. The noise came again from somewhere deep inside the building. Something in the sound compelled her to get up and crawl deeper into the black goddess's temple.

Torchlight flickered eerily on the walls as she followed the cries deeper and deeper. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously when she saw royal guards posted at a doorway further up the hall. What were royal guards protecting in the temple of Nephthys?

One of the guards noticed her as she crawled closer. "Princess Nefertiri!" he cried, abandoning his post.

"Do not touch me!" she commanded harshly. The guard backed off immediately. Nefertiri leaned against the wall and breathed a difficult sigh. "What is this chamber?"

"Princess, this is a private chamber of Anck-su-namun. Only she is allowed inside."

"Anck-su-namun is dead," she snapped. "Help me inside." The guards hesitated, casting doubtful glances inside. Nefertiri was low on patience. "Now!" she barked.

The two guards gently lifted her up and carried her between them into Anck-su-namun's chamber. She winced and gritted her teeth against the pain that assaulted her with each step. She knew that if she wanted to live, she had to see a healer soon.

It was a small chamber, lit by two torches and scented by burning lavender oil. A soft cooing came from a deep, padded stone bed. "Set me down there," she instructed. They complied, setting her as gently as possible on linen pillows next to the bed.

It took all of her strength to lift her head to peer into the blankets. She gasped when she saw the beautiful baby girl lying inside. She looked mournfully at the Princess, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

Nefertiri weakly ran her hand over the cartouche engraved into the side of the stone bassinette. It read, "Bint-Anath, beloved of Nephthys, daughter of Imhotep and Anck-su-namun." A sob escaped her throat. Anck-su-namun had a child.

'I'll take her to the palace!' she thought. 'The servants can raise her and when she is old enough, she can be my slave. Anck-su-namun will always have to watch her daughter serve me as punishment for killing my father!'

Bint-Anath began crying again. Her tiny wails tugged at Nefertiri's heart and she knew that she couldn't enslave her. Instead, she turned to the guard.

"Bring myself and the baby to the palace. Call for a healer." The guards nodded but before one could leave, Nefertiri spoke again. "Tell no one what you know of this chamber. This child is my daughter now. Forget Anck-su-namun ever lived."

Solemnly, the guards nodded. "As you wish, your highness." One left to fetch a healer. The other placed Bint-Anath in Nefertiri's arms and carried them both out of the chamber.


	11. Nero Malfoy

**DISCLAIMER** I made up Nero, but that's it. All the others belong to JKR.

…

**Nero – "Power" Latin**

Once a Parkinson, now a Malfoy, Pansy stood in a long silk dressing gown before a blazing fire in the hearth. She inspected her forearm where her pristine white skin glowed flawlessly in the flickering firelight. The sun had not broken the horizon. Come dawn, the bargain would be made and her perfect pale skin would don the symbol of greatest power.

The door creaked open behind her. "You're up early, my pet," Draco purred. "Not nervous or having second thoughts, are you?"

She turned to face him. "No, of course not."

Draco smiled. Over the past few years, Pansy's pug-like features had softened and she made a passable trophy wife for him. None of their insipid classmates knew they had even married. He was surprised most of all when Pansy had come to him and informed him that a bargain had been made that would allow her to receive the Dark Mark. Even after he learned of the trade, he was proud. "Be sure you're ready by dawn."

"I will."

Pansy turned back to stare into the fire until he was gone. Only then did she let her guard down and a tear formed in her eye.

She was actually having serious doubts. She was only sixteen! A year ago, she was just a girl. Now she was married and about to make a huge sacrifice in order to prove her loyalty to her Dark Lord.

A baby's cry echoed through the cold hallways of Malfoy Manor. Pansy turned sharply, but the child was quieted before she could tell where it came from. With a sigh, she left the fire and went to dress for the ceremony to come at dawn.

Mere moments before the sun was slated to break the horizon, Draco appeared back in her doorway. "Where is he?" he asked.

Pansy looked to the door and corridor behind him. "In the nursery to the left."

A sneer played on her husband's lips. "Ring for him to be brought here."

Obediently, Pansy pulled the call rope for the nursery. A nursemaid materialized instantly in her chambers. A tiny baby boy wrapped in a blue blanket lay quietly in her arms.

"I'll take him," Pansy said stoically. The nurse gave her the child, curtseyed, and Apparated out again.

Draco glanced at the baby only briefly before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the room. "Follow me."

He led Pansy deep into the Manor. After a few moments of endless turns, hidden passageways and false doors, Pansy was thoroughly disoriented. Finally they stopped before a heavy door flanked by black-robed Death Eaters. Draco bowed his head slightly. "My wife has come to pledge her service to the Dark Lord."

The Death Eater on the right nodded. "It is almost dawn." Pansy recognized the voice as that of Rudolphus Lestrange. She wondered how he could tell that it was almost dawn in the dim, torch-lit antechamber.

No one told her what to do, so she paced slowly, deliberately around the room with the baby. She made sure that she didn't appear nervous in front of Lestrange and whoever the other masked Death Eater was.

It felt like forever before the solid door swung open. Pansy needed no invitation; she walked into the dark room with her head held high. Draco closed the door behind her and she was left alone with the most powerful Dark Lord that the wizarding world had ever seen.

"Welcome," Voldemort hissed. "I hear you have come to prove your loyalty to me."

Pansy did not nod. Rather, she met his red eyes and said, "Yes, my Lord."

"What have you to offer me?"

Pansy lowered her eyes, squeezed the child in her arms gently, and held him out. "My son, my Lord."

The red eyes glittered with interest. "The newest heir to the Malfoys. An interesting offer, Mrs. Malfoy." He was quiet for a moment. "And what is this child's name."

"Nero, my Lord."

Voldemort's laugh filled the room like black electricity. "Latin for power. You do know the way to my heart, my dear. Bring to boy to me."

Slowly, Pansy ascended the stairs. She saw her baby boy look up at her as she laid him in Voldemort's arms. His white, claw-like hands closed around the tiny body. Pansy backed away.

"You clearly desire to prove your loyalty," he said.

"Yes, my Lord."

Red eyes narrowed to slits. "Hold out your arm, Pansy Parkinson Malfoy."

She did so. The searing pain that followed was beyond anything she'd ever felt. But she did not grimace or cry out, only closed her eyes serenely against the pain.

Then it stopped. It was over. Voldemort waved a hand and turned his attention to Nero. "You will know when I need you. Leave me now, I must spend time with my son."

Pansy turned for the door obediently. A knife ripped through her heart when she put a hand on the door. When she left that room, she would never see her son again.

Draco was waiting for her to return. When the door finally creaked open again, his wife returned to him without their son, but with a black mark on her forearm in his place.


	12. Maribel Spano

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** Don't kill me for what I did to poor Slater! I heart him, but there had to be conflict, hehe.

**DISCLAIMER** Made up Maribel, but that's it. Don't own the others.

…

**Maribel – "Bitter, Consecrated to God" Spanish**

Southern California was cooler than she expected. From the way her mother talked about it, Maribel expected it to be over 100 degrees every day. Nevertheless, it was much warmer than her home in New York. She wasn't sure why her mother said so often she'd never come back.

Maribel sighed and looked around the airport lobby for a taxi. She was avoiding calling her mother again. She had been furious and sick with worry when Maribel had called her from the terminal in Denver. She had no interest in reliving _that_ lecture.

She stepped out onto the sidewalk, frustrated not to be immediately surrounded by yellow cabs like she would have been at home. Throwing an arm in the air, she called, "Taxi!"

Pleasantly surprised by the car that pulled up in front of her, Maribel quickly threw her bag in the back seat and climbed in after it. "Where ya going?" the cabbie asked.

"The high school," Maribel replied. "I don't know the address."

"Which one?" he asked. "Lotsa high schools around here."

"Uh…" She thought for a moment. "Baywatch?"

The cabbie laughed. "Bayside, you mean."

She nodded. "That's it."

She watched nervously out the window during the long ride. Blanching at how much the ride had cost her, Maribel paid the driver and stood in front of Bayside High School alone. Taking a deep breath, she made her way toward the door.

The bell rang just as she put her hand on the handle and she had to jump to the side to avoid being trampled. She let the wave of students past and cautiously opened the door again.

"Excuse me," she said as she approached a blonde boy.

He turned and looked her up and down. "Hey there, baby."

Maribel's face burned. "Can you tell me how to get to the principal's office?"

"Right behind you."

"Thanks."

He grinned. "Anytime doll." He winked. "See you around."

She knocked softly on the orange door marked "Principal."

"Come in."

Maribel took a moment to compose herself and pushed open the door. An older bald man sat behind a desk. "Are you Mr. Belding?" she asked timidly.

"Yes." He looked up. "Are you a new student?" he asked.

"Uh, no."

"Come in, sit down," he said, standing up. Maribel sat uncomfortably. "Now what's your name?" Mr. Belding asked.

"Maribel," she answered. Hesitantly, she added, "Spano."

"Maribel Spano?" he repeated. "Hey, you aren't by any chance Jessie Spano's daughter, are you?"

Maribel nodded. "We live in New York."

Mr. Belding was thrilled. "Your mother was one of the best students I've ever seen come through this school and I've been here a long time. Is she here? I'd love to see her again."

The teenager shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, no. She doesn't ever want to come back to California." She noticed Mr. Belding's face fall in disappointment, but continued anyway. "I came here to ask you a question, Mr. Belding. My mother refuses to tell me anything about my father. All I know about him is that he was her boyfriend in high school. I want to know about him. I want to know why she doesn't talk about him."

The principal sat down heavily at his desk. "Oh boy," he muttered.

"What?" Maribel demanded. "Did you know my father?"

"Yes," Mr. Belding said slowly. "I knew that whole group very well."

"My mother had a group?"

He was shocked. "Of course! Your mother and her friends ruled Bayside from the time they were freshman until the graduated."

She leaned forward eagerly. "Tell me about them!"

Mr. Belding's eyes grew distant. "Well Jessie was one of the smartest girls in school. She was very driven."

"Oh, I know." The girl smiled proudly. "She was Valedictorian!"

'Actually she wasn't,' Belding thought. He didn't tell Maribel that, though. If Jessie hadn't told her daughter about Screech's sacrifice, then it wasn't his place to explain.

"Jessie's best friend back then was Zack Morris – the ultimate pain in my side." Maribel held in a laugh. It was obvious that Mr. Belding remembered Zack with fondness. "He's been married to Kelly Kapowski, another one of their group, for years.

"Lisa Turtle and Screech Powers were the odd ones in the group. Lisa was a fashion queen and Screech, well, everyone kind of thought he was a nerd. He was in love with Lisa for years, but never got her."

Maribel fidgeted. "And my father?" she pressed.

Mr. Belding sighed and took off his glasses. "His name was A.C. Slater. He and your mother were an unlikely pair. He was on the football team, the wrestling team, the basketball team, and the track team."

"A jock, huh?" Maribel cracked a smile. "What happened? Where is he now?"

But she paled when she saw Mr. Belding's face. "Maribel, I don't know quite how to tell you this. After college, your father decided to follow in his father's footsteps and joined the army. He, uh, he left for Iraq a few years ago. He never came back."

Maribel slumped in her chair. "He's dead."

"No," Mr. Belding said slowly. "Missing. But he hasn't been heard from in years."

Maribel fought against tears that she didn't understand. "Mr. Belding?" she asked in a small voice. "Can I call my mom?"

"Of course." He slid the phone toward her.

Jessie Spano was thrilled, relieved, and furious to hear her wayward teenage daughter say, "Mom, I'm coming home."


	13. Keene Cale

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** This is a continuation of _A Moth to the Light _and the Dark Angel chapter of _Wedding Bells_. Quick rundown: Buffy, Willow, Spike, Angel, and Illyria used a Time Turner to go to the year 2020 on a mission for the Watcher's Council. They meet up with Max and the gang and end up defeating an ascension and the Breeding Cult. Willow cures Max of the Logan virus by using a spell to bind the virus like the protein block in "Borrowed Time." She falls in love with Original Cindy, Illyria (the demon version of Fred) hooks up with Alec, and Spike falls for Jondy. Angel's soul is made permanent as a reward from the Powers that Be and he and Buffy can be together. The two of them return to 2004, but die in the Pulse five years later. Max and Logan marry in the presence of all of Max's living siblings and friends.

**DISCLAIMER** I made up Keene, but no one else. Everyone else belongs to Joss Whedon and James Cameron.

…

**Keene – "Wise, Learned" Celtic/Gaelic**

There was a flurry of activity early on May first. A small boy ran for the door of his apartment, but didn't make it far before a hand closed on the hood of his sweatshirt. "Uh uh uh," the woman said.

"Mom!" he whined. "Max and Case are downstairs and they're waiting for me!"

Max Guevara Cale smiled down at her son. "Your cousins can wait, Keene. It's the first of the month. You know what that means."

Keene's small face screwed up. "Aw Mom, not now! I wanna go out and play!"

She shook her head. "After your check-up. Come on!"

She led the reluctant child into the master bathroom of off her and her husband's bedroom. Keene ran to his father, who had just finished dressing and was drying his hair. "Dad!"

Logan Cale picked up his son and gave him a hug. "Hey buddy!" Noting Keene's pout, he added, "What's wrong?"

"Max and Case are waiting for me, but Mom won't let me go out," Keene complained. "She says I need to have my check-up first."

Logan met Max's eyes over their son's head before replying, "Well you should listen to your mother. It won't take long and then you can go out and play with your cousins."

Keene sighed. "Okay." He scampered into the bathroom as soon as Logan set him down.

Crossing the room, Logan caught his wife's arm before she headed into the bathroom. "Max, are you sure that this is still necessary?"

"Better safe than sorry."

"Max." Logan turned her around to face him. "Keene's five years old. Nothing's happened yet. And we don't even know if you're able to pass on these things to your children."

Max looked up at him. "We also don't know that I'm not. Look at Case! Tinga…" She fought back tears. "Tinga was my sister. She passed on her genetic traits; I might be able to, too."

Logan folded her in his arms and held her. "The virus is taken care of, Max. You don't have to worry anymore."

She laid her head against his chest. "The virus is contained by binding powder that was magically liquefied, injected into my bloodstream, and reinforced by a spell. Keene doesn't have that but he could have the virus strains."

Logan smiled and looked down at Max. "Where is Willow, anyway? We could have her do that to Keene just in case."

Laughing, Max shook her head. "Nah. She and Original Cindy are living the high life in Australia for a few months."

Logan cocked his head. "Australia?"

She shrugged. "Don't know. They'll be back soon."

"Mo-om! They're _waiting_!"

Max and Logan laughed. "I'd better go," Max said.

Logan hovered by the doorway as Keene sat on the closed toilet seat and Max swabbed the inside of his elbow with alcohol. Keene winced as Max slid a needle into his arm and withdrew a vial of blood. Spilling a few drops on a slide, Max turned the lights off, flicked on the microscope light, and examined the blood. Logan was relieved when she smiled.

She quickly checked Keene's vital signs and reflexes. Finally, she stood up and put her hands on her hips. "All right. Last check. Let me see."

Keene dutifully stood and turned around. He tilted his head forward while Max peered intently at the back of his neck. She grinned again and turned him around. Kissing his forehead, she declared, "All clear, kiddo! Now who's taking you out to play?"

"Aunt Jace."

"Okay." Max stood up. "Go ahead."

Keene bolted from the bathroom happily. Max took Logan's hand as they left the bathroom. "Barcode-free?" Logan asked.

Max nodded. "Barcode-free. Let's just hope he stays that way."

Logan sighed and sat on the bed. "Max, you need to stop this. Keene is five years old. He wasn't born with a barcode and one hasn't shown up in any of the monthly check-ups you've given him since then. Don't you think it's time you relaxed about it?"

"This is our son, Logan!" Max snapped, eyes flashing. "If you want to be cavalier about him, be my guest. But I'm not going to rest until I'm certain that Keene has no Manticore anything inside of him."

"Whoa!" Logan stood up in surrender. "I love Keene just as much as you do! But Manticore's gone. The Breeding Cult's been quiet for years. Nothing is going to happen to him."

Max sighed and dropped down onto the bed. "It's just, every time I look at him, I'm so afraid that someday he'll end up in a gray nightgown with a military haircut."

Logan sat next to her and held her. "He won't. I promise. Why are you so worried today, anyway?"

A smile played on her lips. "I'm just not looking forward to giving two check-ups a month. That's twice the worry."

His eyes lit up. "Max!"

She blushed and giggled as she took his hand and placed it on her abdomen. Amused by his amazed expression, Max whispered, "You can't feel anything yet."

His blew eyes met her dark ones. "I love you – Manticore and all."

Max smiled and pulled him to his feet. "Come on. If we hurry, we can catch Max, Keene, Case, and Jace. Those three'll wear her out."


	14. Artemesia Malfoy

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** This is the last chapter of "Bonnie's Eyes"! Thank you all for reading. I hope you've enjoyed it! BTW – I wrote this chapter before I read HBP and although I do hate Snape quite a lot because of that book, Artemesia's hatred of him has nothing to do with that.

**DISCLAIMER** I made up Artemesia, but no one else. They all belong to JKR.

…

**Artemesia (Variation of Artemis) – "Goddess of the Moon and Hunt" Greek**

17-year-old Artemesia Malfoy stood on her balcony, her long, thick, curly black hair whipping violently across her face in the wind. Her mother was in the courtyard below her, setting up for the party by flickering lamplight. Lucius had miraculously escaped from Azkaban and Narcissa was celebrating.

Artemesia sneered. Narcissa had told her many years ago that Lucius was not her father. Her ice blue eyes narrowed. Like she'd ever have been mistaken for a Malfoy.

She had been born with the delicate features of her mother and elegant and strong features that resembled the family of Malfoy. But her complexion and raven-colored hair marked her as something distinctly other than a Malfoy. She grinned coldly.

Although the two weren't all that different, her personality was much like that of her real father than like a Malfoy. She was lucky that Snapes and Malfoys were so similar – if not for her dark hair, Lucius might never have figured out that she wasn't his.

Severus Snape. How Artemesia longed to meet him face-to-face. Lucius had refused to send her to Hogwarts, afraid of what might happen if father and daughter were to meet. Instead of being a year ahead of her sniveling half-brother Draco, Artemesia had been schooled by private tutors who trained her in the blackest of arts. She was sure that Lucius had taken precautions against Artemesia turning on him, but she was equally sure that he never expected her to use her magic against her own father.

Narcissa was busy below her. She had learned of Lucius's "release" that morning and was now working into the night to prepare for his homecoming the next day. Artemesia felt almost bad that Mother's party would be ruined.

But then her burning hatred of Severus Snape rushed back and she told herself that the party wasn't at all important. Getting revenge on her father was. Mother's party just happened to be the perfect opportunity.

Narcissa had told her wonderful, fanciful stories about her father when she was a child. They were her bedtime stories, leading her into dreams about finding him and being a family. Artemesia gripped the railing of her balcony so hard that her knuckles turned white. That bastard! He had never wanted to be a family. He didn't want her. Now he would pay.

She saw her mother look up and meet her eyes. "Artemesia," she said with a smile, her voice soft and sad. Then she went back to her preparations.

Out of all of her family members, Narcissa was the one that Artemesia hated the least. In fact, her feelings for her mother could even be interpreted as strained love. Artemesia understood deep down that Narcissa loved her only as a mother could love her daughter.

Stars glittered brightly above Malfoy Manor. The huge estate was the only home that she'd ever known, although there wasn't a day that went by when Lucius forgot to so kindly remind her that she would never be a Malfoy and lived in the Manor only by his good will.

A cold wind blew in from the ocean, raising goosebumps on her arms. She saw the moon reflected on the rippling water. She was quite partial to the moon. It gave her power. Cracking a smile, she was amused by what her foster father would say if he knew her thoughts. It might even give him an aneurysm, which alone would be worth it.

For Artemesia followed no leader. She worshipped no prince. The black magic that she had learned throughout her life was more than adequate for her to achieve her goal. She needed no Dark Lord to guide her, Voldemort or other.

Again she looked down into the courtyard. "I'm sorry, Mother," she said. "I know how much this party means to you. But Severus Snape is going to be there and you've left me no choice. Tomorrow, I'm going to kill him."

With that, Artemesia Malfoy turned her back on the courtyard, Narcissa, the ocean, and the moon and disappeared into her chambers.


End file.
